Behind these Walls
by LordApollo-SunKing
Summary: Is a sanctuary. As a child, she did not understand the dangers of the woods. But she had learned the hard way. she fears the wolves behind her house. The ones she swears are watching her, waiting for...something.


And here is me... with yet ANOTHER new story. HOWEVER this story, I think, is vastly different from my other stories. I have two writing styles. The one I usually use I call my story driven style, done with only advancing the plot in mind. The other, which this story is, is a more descriptive style, that I call artist style, because I'm more focused on creating vivid scenes in my readers' (if any) minds. Personally I find I like my artist style better, but very hard to access. Like some secret part of yourself you've locked away and you keep losing the key to. I FORGET how to do it and it only makes itself known when I feel like writing something emotional and beautiful. If you've read my other stories, you'll even see the difference in my author's note. Most of the time I'm (trying to) crack jokes and encourage reviews. The only other time I have published an artist story here was with my old account, as SorrowfulSoulful called 'Only Darkness' for Skulduggery Pleasant. VERY short, which should further prove my point of only getting at it sometimes. I have been working on this story for months now and feel that it can be shown now.

Now, instead of badgering for reviews, I'm going to let my work speak for itself.

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The beast is lying in the mud. The earth around it is covered in leaves of all colours, reds, golds, yellows, browns and oranges. The only sound is the quick rasps of breath from the creature and the flutter of leaves being stirred by the cold, but gentle, winds. There are no animals near by, for they are all hiding. They fear the beast, but right now, the beast is feeling fear. For the fist time in its life, the beast is scared. Not just scared, terrified.

There is a deep gash in its side. Three slashes, done with a pitchfork. The usually, shining clean silver fur of the beast is now matted with dirt and dry blood. Its tongue is hanging out of its mouth and the beast is panting. It knows it must leave this place, the forest, which had kept the beast safe for so long. The forest was no longer safe, the hunters were coming.

Shakily, legs trembling, the beast rose to its feet. Its claws make soft scratching and clicking noises against pebbles and twigs. It leaves as fast as its wounded body would allow. It is off at a trot, headed east, aiming to get as far from man as possible, so deep into the forest, no one will ever find it again. It is on high alert, using highly sensitive ears to pick up even the slightest sound of approach. It heard the wind, and on the wind is man's scent. It continues forward, into better cover.

The beast travels into the night. It will not stop for sleep, only once has it stopped. Near a river for a drink, and to clean its fur and wounds. It has not stopped since. However, it is getting hungry and weak, and knows it must stop soon. It comes to a clearing in the forest, surrounded by boulders, bushes and trees. It catches itself something to eat, then raises to its hind legs. With one graceful, powerful leap, it goes up a good five feet into one of the trees that has yet to lose its leaves. Here it stays for one night only.

The beast awoke with a start. Nearby, the angry hollers and yells of the hunters can be heard. The beast's blood-red eyes can see them from its height. It can smell the adrenaline and anticipation of the men as they close in on the beast's hiding place. The beast growls in anger, as a substitute for cussing. It bars its fangs in the general direction of the noise, and its hackles rise. Its ears fold back on its head and it crouches, prepared to pounce.

From the crowd of hunters hissing can be heard. An attempt from one of the members to make the group quiet, no doubt. The one member has heard something, growling perhaps, from up in the trees. The hunter looks up into the tree tops, to see the form of the beast, teeth bared and hackles erect. The man brings his rifle up so the beast is in the crosshairs. The beast immediately ceases its defensive stance, but continues to growl. It is perched on a thick branch, so shooting the branch was out of the question. Suddenly, the beast leapt from the tree to the ground, landing with a muted thud, like a cat. It growled once again, and then set off.

The girl pushes a strand of ash-blond hair back, it having interfered with her studies, and she continues to puzzle over the imaginary world in her hands. Wolves, she reckons, are fierce and brutish animals, not deserving of the sympathy the author had tried to elicit from the readers. She fears them. With all her body and soul. She knows they are not wasted fears. There are wolves in the forest behind her house. But she is safe now, behind these stone walls, her own personal fortress. However, she knows not even the sturdiest of buildings are completely, entirely, impregnable. She knows this, because she has lived it.

The innocence of childhood is bliss.

It is also a curse. A curse upon her soul.

_Too young to appreciate the danger. Too naïve to realize the wolf was not here to play. _

_Too young to appreciate the danger. Never again, because she knows now. She learned the hard way._

_Her bloodstained body on the porch._

"_Papa help me…"_

_Weakly gripping the corrugated wood decking._

"_I think I see Mama…"_

_Delirious from blood loss, she does not see what hurt her, the mental defence in her brain blacking it out. There is her long dead mother, doting on her. The girl smiles._

"_Stay strong, my little senshi, and smile whilst you can. Fate will do you many more wrongs before you can finally rest. Save your tears for when they are truly needed."_

_So she kept smiling, and did not shed a tear, even when her mother's loving embrace dissipated and she was again greeted with the beast's body. She gritted her teeth against the pain, but inside she was dying._

_A gunshot tore into the sound barrier and the wolf ran afraid for its life. It was hunting season. _

_Minutes later, her father came out looking for her. It was dinner time._

The girl set the hardback tome on her bedside table, her hand trembling with the effort. She had not felt much like eating that day, too fatigued, and not bothered doing anything. She had remained in bed, as she had many time before. Yawning, her arm reached to turn off her lamp, and once she did, the room was engulfed in the looming darkness, illuminated only by the hard glow of the round moon.

_Somewhere outside, deep in the bowels of the woods, a wolf howled._

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I would just ask you to tell me if the book extract is too long, just right, or totally boredom-educing. This chapter is titled Undo because that's the name of the song I'm listening to right now, from Fullmetal Alchemist.

_Hope you enjoyed chapter one_

_~T.K._


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